


Mood to Burn Bridges

by menel



Series: Blacklisted [2]
Category: Justified
Genre: Episode Related, Friends With Benefits, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 18:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6919183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Much to Tim’s surprise, Raylan is sticking around in Kentucky longer than anticipated. After their ‘encounter’ at Raylan’s motel, the sniper has come to the (in)sensible decision not to let the cowboy get away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mood to Burn Bridges

**Author's Note:**

> Episode tag to 2x01 The Moonshine War

It’s way past after hours when Raylan sauntered into the Marshal’s office. In the softer lighting, Tim tracked the cowboy’s easy gait from his desk where he was wrapping up the last business-related telephone call of the day. Without breaking his stride, Raylan inclined his head towards Tim in greeting as he passed by and went straight into Art’s office. Tim made no effort to hide his curiosity as he gazed into Art’s glass-walled office. Raylan had gone AWOL to pursue the last remaining gun thugs that Gio Gonzalez had sent after him, Gio’s own niece and nephew, no less. To say that Tim was surprised to see Raylan at all would’ve been an understatement. He’d overheard some of Art’s conversation with Dan Grant, Raylan’s former boss and Chief Deputy of the Miami office. It appeared as though Raylan’s penance was over, and he was free to return to Miami if that’s what he wanted. Tim didn’t have time to ponder what Raylan’s response might have been because Art was soon yelling for him to join the little powwow in his office. When Tim walked in, the first thing he noticed was the premium bourbon and three tumblers occupying the last bit of free space on the corner of Art’s desk. 

“We’ll do the gun thing,” Art informed him as he pulled out a large, padded envelope from a desk drawer. 

Tim nodded in response and turned to Raylan. “Relinquishing a firearm can be a very emotional moment,” he told the cowboy in his most deadpan voice. “There always must be another deputy in attendance. Add in some premium alcohol,” he continued, his deadpan tone shifting into something closer to snark. “What could possibly go wrong?” 

While Raylan dropped his gun into the envelope that Art held open, Tim poured the bourbon into the tumblers and then handed them out. The three of them held up their drinks in a toast. 

“What cha’ gonna get next?” Tim asked Raylan before drinking his bourbon. 

Raylan downed his drink before answering. 

“Probably the same thing.” 

Art glanced between the two deputies, his gaze finally resting on Raylan. “You should think about getting an Uzi,” he said so seriously that it made Tim smile.

* * * * *

Tim was just a half step behind Raylan when they took leave of their boss. He walked towards his desk and he’d sort of assumed (incorrectly) that Raylan would drop by his desk as well, but the cowboy didn’t stop and it appeared that he was leaving the office until Tim’s voice stopped him.

“Hey!” 

Raylan glanced over his shoulder and shot Tim an inquiring look. 

“You got a place to stay?” 

Tim could see the quick flicker of surprise in the other man’s eyes at the unexpected question, but otherwise Raylan gave nothing away. He turned around more fully so that he was facing Tim, but didn’t answer the question. 

“You look like shit,” Tim continued by way of explanation. Now Raylan looked like he wanted to say something in response but Tim cut him off before he could start. “Can’t imagine returning to a crime scene and blood-stained sheets would be all that restful.” 

Raylan’s expression had gone from curious to amused; an idea that was reinforced when he finally spoke. “It’s a motel, Tim. They got other rooms.” 

Of course, Tim knew this and it’s unlike him to be so direct (especially in the fucking office even if it is after hours), but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Ever since he got wind of the Miami gun thugs blowing into town and the subsequent shoot-out at Bulletville, he’s more acutely aware than ever that Raylan is on borrowed time. The cowboy’s made no secret of his desire to get out of Kentucky, that accepting this job was a form of atonement for his ‘sins’ with Tommy Buck (not that Raylan had any regrets about that particular shooting). But Tim’s thoughts have circled back to their encounter at Raylan’s motel more times than is remotely healthy and the possibilities that moment (that lapse?) have opened up for them. Raylan was, hands down, the most desirable man Tim’s ever laid eyes on. While the idea of an office romance wasn’t even in his vocabulary, he’s also made up his mind that he’s not going to let Raylan get away without tasting that forbidden fruit, especially since he’s now aware that the cowboy would be receptive to his advances. Equally importantly, Raylan was obviously the no-strings attached kind of guy if his track record was anything to go by, and that probably made him most attractive of all. There was no denying that Raylan Givens was a complicated man, but the sex should be simple enough. (Later, much later, Tim would come to rue that line of thought.) 

“They do,” Tim agreed. “But I’ve got a bigger and more comfortable bed.” 

This time Raylan was unable to hide his surprise at Tim’s blatantly suggestive remark and he walked deliberately back to Tim’s desk until he was standing in front of the other man. He dropped his voice when he spoke. 

“That’s a mighty tempting offer,” Raylan began, the low timber of his voice sounding like pure seduction to Tim’s ears. “And believe me when I say that I am interested, but as you pointed out, I look like shit and after my round trip flight from Miami, all I really want is to get some sleep.” 

“You sayin’ you can’t get it up?” 

Raylan chuckled at Tim’s barbed comeback and he shook his head in response. “I’m sayin’,” he replied, a peculiar note of affection creeping into his voice. “That I wouldn’t be at my best.” 

Tim looked down and arranged a few of the papers on his desk. That was probably the nicest refusal that Raylan could’ve given him, but he’s got a dog with a bone air about him tonight and when he looked up again, he was pretty sure Raylan could read the determination in his eyes. 

“Come over anyway,” he offered, laying out his cards on the table. “I really do have a comfortable bed. And I ain’t gonna jump you.” 

Raylan leaned in a little closer and Tim could practically feel the electricity crackling between them. “You have that much restraint?” he chided. 

“You think a little too highly of yourself,” Tim shot back. 

Raylan’s amused grin was back. He straightened up and somehow Tim didn’t cave under the other man’s appraising gaze. 

“All right,” Raylan agreed at last. “But this is still a rain check on that rain check.” 

“If you say so,” Tim replied. 

Half an hour later, the two of them were back in Tim’s apartment. The doubts surrounding his hasty decision and the ramifications of it were starting to plague Tim as he watched Raylan move effortlessly about, but Tim ruthlessly squashed them. It wasn’t his policy to bring people home, but Raylan had that way of breaking his self-imposed rules. It’s not that Raylan was a rule-breaker (not _really_ ), it’s more that he had a tendency of _bending_ rules, whether professional or personal, until Tim wasn’t sure which way was up or which way was down. Tim had begun to think of the other man as a giant cat. Despite the chaos that seemed to swirl around him, Raylan always managed to land on his feet, collateral damage be damned. 

_What if you turn out to be part of that collateral damage?_ a voice nagged him. 

_What the hell?_ another voice argued. _Your life’s already a mess, and the cowboy isn’t going to stick around. Have some fun. Enjoy it while it lasts._

Tim was absolutely not losing his shit. 

Raylan had spotted the end table where Tim kept the bourbon and some ready tumblers and was headed straight for it. He poured himself two fingers and then a second tumbler for Tim. Tim gravitated towards the other man and they briefly held their glasses up in a silent toast before drinking, Tim never taking his eyes off of Raylan. When Tim put down his glass with some of the bourbon still in his mouth, he purposely stepped into Raylan’s space, reached up and placed a firm hand at the back of Raylan’s neck – an echo of what Raylan had done to him at the motel – and pulled the other man into a wet kiss. This was a different sort of kiss from the one Raylan had ambushed him with back at the motel when Tim had been so hard he could have come without Raylan even touching his dick. Instead of bruising, this one was slow and sensual, but no less intense. It was the kind of kiss one would share with a lover. It was at that point that Tim switched his brain off since nothing good would come from following that train of thought. 

Tim ended the kiss, slightly breathless and stepped away. He was inwardly pleased that this time the kiss had been entirely in his control and Raylan had simply followed his lead. Maybe there would be more parity in the bedroom than he thought. As if reading his mind, the cowboy’s gaze was calculating, making Tim wonder if the other man was going to take that rain check after all. 

“Bed?” he said, the inflection in his voice turning the word into a question. 

“Sleep,” Raylan answered, the finality in his tone leaving no room for discussion. 

Tim’s grin was cocky and self-assured. (When did he become so confident around Raylan?) “There’s always the morning,” he added, turning around and leading the way to the bedroom. 

“Indeed, there is,” the cowboy agreed.

Apparently, sex wasn’t always on Raylan’s mind because when they reached the bedroom, the cowboy gestured vaguely at Tim’s comfortable bed and said, “You prefer a side?” 

“Not really,” Tim answered, heading for the shower. “You?” 

“Right,” Raylan said and proceeded to strip. 

Tim watched him for a moment before realizing that he was going to have to beat one out in the shower if he kept on watching. He cleared his throat, catching Raylan’s attention. “Don’t feel like showering first?” 

“Gutterson, I never would’ve guessed you were such a horn dog.” 

Tim shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said, before disappearing into the bathroom. 

By the time Tim got under the covers, Raylan was sound asleep on the right side of his bed.

* * * * *

Tim followed a very specific routine. His body clock automatically woke him by 6:30am and he soundlessly slipped out of bed before changing into workout clothes for his morning run. A little over an hour later he was back, having stopped by a bakery near his apartment building to buy some freshly baked bread. Unsurprisingly, Raylan was still dead to the world. Tim grinned at the cowboy’s sleeping form before heading for the shower. When he’d offered his bed to Raylan the night before, he’d done it knowing that the following day was Saturday and Raylan would be able to sleep in. If he was lucky, he might even be able to get Raylan to himself for the whole day.

The whole day proved to be an understatement. Raylan stayed at Tim’s place for the whole weekend. After his morning shower, Tim did a very un-Tim thing and crawled back under the sheets. He wasn’t disappointed. When Raylan eventually woke, he thanked Tim for his hospitality by giving him a ‘Good morning’ blowjob. To Tim’s total lack of surprise, the cowboy was just as good with his mouth as he was with his hand. There was more sex in the shower (even though Tim hardly needed another shower), followed by more sex in bed. At some point, they made their way out to the kitchen for coffee, fresh bread, and bacon which, of course, led to sex in the kitchen. Tim didn’t think they were trying to break in every flat surface in his apartment, but they were coming awfully close. Pun totally intended. 

After their late breakfast, they went back to the bedroom and didn’t leave it for the rest of the day. In the evening, Raylan ordered a pizza and a bucket of spicy fried chicken. Armed with a six-pack of beer, they parked themselves on Tim’s couch so the cowboy could explain the finer points of baseball over a live Royals game. Tim hadn’t gotten into baseball as a kid, not with an alcoholic father who would sooner hit him with a baseball bat than play catch. But he was quickly learning that baseball had been a big part of Raylan’s life growing up. The cowboy wouldn’t admit it, but Tim could tell that Raylan had been good, maybe even the star of his high school baseball team. Raylan had a genuine love for the game. Tim figured he could get into baseball especially with his present company, but on this particular night they only made it to the seventh inning stretch before Tim decided to distract Raylan with other preoccupations. Raylan didn’t object. 

Sunday was spent largely the same way as Saturday, except in the late afternoon Raylan convinced Tim to make a trip to the supermarket after realizing that all Tim had his refrigerator were beer and eggs. 

“You cook?” Tim asked disbelievingly, leaning against the shopping cart while Raylan inspected the meat section. 

Raylan gave him a sideways glance. “I ain’t no Bobby Flay,” he warned the other man. 

Still, Raylan’s secret cooking abilities were probably the most surprising thing Tim had learned about the other Marshal the entire weekend. It was more surprising than Raylan’s intense love of baseball, how he liked to have Tim ride him, and how well he could deep throat. 

“Who taught you?” Tim asked, still unable to process a domestic side to the cowboy. 

“Aunt Helen,” Raylan replied casually. “’Course Arlo gave me a tanning when he found out. Cooking was _'women’s work'_ as he put it.”

“Not manly enough for the old bastard?” 

“Not by a long shot. How about you? Got any skills in the kitchen?” 

“I burn toast.” 

“I’ll remember that.”

* * * * *

Later that evening, sitting at the dining table that Tim never used and eating a homemade meal that _Raylan_ had prepared (the first homemade meal that Tim could remember eating since . . . well, _forever_ ), Tim took a moment to appreciate the sheer unreality of the situation. The whole weekend had passed by in a sort of sex-fueled haze, punctuated by moments of intimacy and camaraderie with a man he was just beginning to know. But the spell of the weekend would soon wear off and tomorrow they’d be back at work with Raylan facing an army of AUSAs for the events of the past few weeks. Were they just going to go back to the way it was before? Pretend that the weekend had never happened? Tim thought it was possible. He considered this weekend to be a natural continuation of what had taken place at Raylan’s motel and maybe it had run its course. Tim _could_ go back to the way things were, but he wasn’t so sure he _wanted_ to.

“So, what happens next?” he asked into the comfortable silence of their meal. 

Raylan broke off a piece of bread and dipped it into the hearty beef stew. As if to prove how in tune they were, Raylan didn’t try to play dumb or to dodge the question. He knew _exactly_ what Tim was referring to. 

“I’d be lyin’ if I said I knew,” the cowboy admitted. “How do you see this playing out?” 

“Maybe I could give you a scenario if I knew what the hell was going on.” 

Raylan fixed Tim with a hard look. “I think we both have a pretty good idea of what’s goin’ on,” he chastised lightly. “The real question is whether we’re gonna keep doin’ this.” 

“By ‘this,’ you mean having sex,” Tim clarified. 

“Yes.”

Tim hummed thoughtfully. He had absolutely no objections to the sex. He hadn’t been laid in months and was seriously wondering if he’d used up his entire quota for the year in one weekend. 

“I would be amenable to that,” he said, at last. 

“As would I,” Raylan agreed. 

“We’d have to set up some rules.” 

“Rules?” The cowboy sounded skeptical. 

“Yeah, I know it’s a foreign concept to you,” Tim began in his patented deadpan manner. “But the rest of society follows _rules_. They provide this thing called ‘order.’ Let’s us know what’s what and when we’re over-stepping certain bounds.” 

Raylan looked like he was holding back a smile. “Rules, then,” he said. “Let’s hear ‘em.” 

“Rule No. 1,” Tim began. “We keep this under the radar. No one can know. No one at work, no friends, no acquaintances.” 

Raylan’s expression softened a little. “That one went without saying,” he said. 

“Well, I’m sayin’ it anyway,” Tim emphasized, the unspoken _If you out me, there will be consequences_ hanging in the air between them.

“No one knows,” Raylan repeated firmly. 

“Rule No. 2,” Tim went on. “No strings attached. And I mean _none_. This is not a ‘relationship.’ _Nada_. Nothing –” 

“You’re not gonna hear any objections from me,” Raylan cut in. “All my relationships end in train wrecks. Wouldn’t want to add you to that list.” 

Tim felt an odd pang of relief and disappointment at hearing that proclamation. 

“Anything else?” 

“Rule No. 3. Since this isn’t a ‘relationship,’ we’re free to see other people.” 

“See other people? Or _sleep_ with other people?” 

“Is there a difference?” 

“Let’s say there is.” 

Tim felt the briefest flash of annoyance, but he swiftly buried it and fixed Raylan with his own hard look. “If I see a leggy blond on your arm, I’m just gonna assume that you’re sleeping with her.” 

“Fair enough,” Raylan agreed. Then he looked thoughtful. “Leggy blond?” he questioned. 

“Ava Crowder and Winona Hawkins would suggest that you have a particular type.” 

“Are you stereotypin’ me, Deputy Gutterson?” Raylan asked in mock offense. 

“I’m calling it like it is.” 

Raylan held back another smile. “Anything else?” he repeated. 

“That about covers it.” 

“Glad we got that sorted out then.” 

“You ever done this before?” 

At Raylan’s inquiring look, Tim continued. “A friends-with-benefits policy?” 

“A couple of times,” Raylan admitted. 

“And did those end in train wrecks too?” 

“Nah, casual sex is casual sex. So long as we both know what’s what.” 

“Hence, the rules.” 

They lapsed into another comfortable silence, Tim feeling more at ease in the other man’s company than ever. “You ready for tomorrow?” he eventually asked. 

“Meeting with AUSAs is my favorite part of the day.” 

 

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

>  _Justified_ belongs to FX, Graham Yost and Elmore Leonard. No offense is intended, no profit is being made.


End file.
